


Things that happened in between

by thevaliantdust



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevaliantdust/pseuds/thevaliantdust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This started as a little Vaxleth drabble, turned into an angsty mess, and finally grew into a somewhat finished story. Let me know what you think. </p>
<p>Takes place in the middle of episode 27</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things that happened in between

She’s angry. She’s so angry. Angry at him because she thought he was better than that. Angry at herself because she knew he wasn’t. Angry because she’s not quite sure how they got here.

Or maybe she’s not. Maybe she’s numb. Maybe she’s numb from the senseless never-ending violence. From the desperate justification of cruelty. Numb from the many times she let it slip by, the many times she indulged in it herself.

More than that, though, she’d determined. Determined to change things, to do better, to be better. Determined not to let her voice and her morals be trampled under the feet of those she calls family. She is determined not to let him soothe away her righteous fury with his gentle smile, his lilting words.

But she aches for it.

When he falls in step with her and asks about her hand, she replies with the flippant words she has repeated to herself a hundred times.

**It’s fine.**

**Do you need anything** , he persists.

Yes, she wants to scream, yes I do. I need you to take this burden of anger and hurt and confusion and betrayal away and somehow make everything better. I need you not to be who you are, even though who you are is all I want. But most of all, I need you to leave me alone so don’t get the chance to say any of this out loud.

**Nope.**

She cuts off the conversation before her thin shield of anger gives way to the maelstrom of emotions underneath.

* * *

 

Later that week he catches her between their comings and goings. In a way, she’s enjoyed this week of everyone running their separate errands. It’s given her space to breathe and remember who she is. But after a number of solitary walks, a small speck of fear starts to creep in. She knows she thinks differently to the rest of them, has reservations they don’t. And she told them as much, called them out while they treated it like a huge joke. She was understandably frustrated, she tells herself, understandably abrupt. And still this fear niggles away. She’s hardly talked to anyone this week, aside from a little input on one pet project or another. But she hears them joking around, laughing raucously in the dining hall, chatting as they pass each other in the hallways. She can’t quite muster the energy to join the frivolity, but she listens to the sound of merriment echo through the stone walls of the keep.

She sits alone with her alchemy set, and frets. She can’t make out what the others are talking about, but she can imagine. And then the fear, held at bay by anger that is slowly ebbing, starts to grow. Maybe she overstepped. She can’t expect them to change for her. They’re probably making plans right now to set off for Whitestone without her, the moral ball-and-chain. The air feels thin and her legs carry her out of the room before she even knows it. Downstairs she hears several voices joined in conversation. They’re trying to find a nice way to tell her to shove off. Or maybe a not nice way. They’re laughing right now. _Who does Keyleth think she is, telling us how to live. Up on her high horse when she’s taken the life of a child-_

She’s out of the keep now, running. She’s not sure where. She doesn’t know what she’s done. It was wrong, all that killing, the way they’re killing. It was wrong and it’s her duty to speak up. But her heart is racing and she doesn’t know, she’s dealt with evil before but never from within, never from people she trusts. And she recalls the jokes and the laughter and the excuses, all the excuses, and she thinks how can these people possibly care what I have to say? What I feel is right? And if-

Her vision is blurred so she feels, rather than sees the shape in front of her, and not until it’s far too late. Two strong hands tenderly catch her upper arms. She looks down at these hands in mild shock, taking this moment to blink back tears she was absolutely not going to shed, before meeting Vax’s gaze. **Keyleth**. He says her name softly, a question and a prayer wrapped up in one. For the tiniest moment, she melts into his touch. There is a sob scratching at her throat, begging to get out. **Kiki**. This time a whisper, a caress. She cannot bear it a second longer.

She takes a deep, shaky breath to fortify herself and steps back out of Vax’s grip. **Just taking a walk** , she tells him. Only a slight crack betrays the otherwise perfectly practiced coolness in her voice. He looks as if he will say something else but instead fixes his eyes intently on hers, trying to convey a million thoughts in this one moment. She breaks his gaze as she feels a tug in her chest- another moment of weakness. Because that’s what this is, weakness. She’s said her piece, told them where she stands. If they can’t or won’t respect that then perhaps it’s better to know sooner rather than later. She pushes past him, and she’s not sure what it means that he just lets her pass. In clipped tones she tells him she’ll be back later, even as she’s berating herself for feeling the need to be accountable to him. There is a part of her that aches for him to stop her, tell her she’s being irrational, tell her anything at all, but the moment passes. By the time she looks back, Vax is nowhere in sight. She sits outside the walls of the keep, cold stones on her back, an even colder feeling settling in her chest. 

* * *

 

Perhaps it says something about her state of mind, or perhaps just his skills, that she doesn’t notice his approach. Night had settled over the keep hours past but between her icy skin and the numbness in her bones, she hasn’t managed to rise. The first she knows of his presence is the heavy drape of his cloak across her shoulders. It smells of him, infusing his warmth throughout her aching body.

**You’re freezing** , he tells her, as if she can’t feel it. Maybe he’s not sure she can.

When she doesn’t reply, he crouches before her, pausing a moment as if to give her time to push him away before he takes her shaking hands in his. Funny that she hadn’t noticed the shaking until this moment. **Kiki**. There again is that tender softness that nearly had her undone, this time infused with a firmness that was absent before. This is Vax’ildan, protector and leader, ready to talk her around, talk her down from the ledge, say anything to save her. She doesn’t understand how she can feel so conflicted over one tiny inflection in his voice.

She closes her eyes and for one brief moment, imagines she would just float away on the wind, far from it all. And yet even as she thinks this, the warmth of his hands is slowly bringing life back into her fingertips, spreading along her hands, up her arms, a stinging sensation that seems to snap her out of this place her mind has drifted.

**Vax,** she replies finally, voice clearer than she had any right to expect. She meets his eyes, ready for the look of disappointment, pity, brotherly concern at best. Instead she finds herself frozen by the intensity of his gaze, full of emotions she can’t find in herself to name. She is surprised when he is the first to break eye contact, rocking back on his heels to leverage himself back into a standing position. He gives her hand the slightest of tugs, and she realises he wants to help her up. Cold as they are, her legs protest her weight and she stumbles, but he is ready and he catches her. His arms are around her and in this moment she wonders why it has taken her so long to end up here, here where it is safe and warm and right.

But she remembers why, of course she does, and just as quickly as she laid her head against his chest, she pulls herself away. **Keyleth, please** , he urges, **come inside**. The lines are blurred and she can’t tell if this is leader Vax or friend Vax or some curious blend of the two. **I can’t** , she tells him and her voice shakes and it comes out as a breathy whisper and knows even as she says it that it’s not enough. **I can’t be around people who-**

Vax’s eyes widen and she realises that he has no idea that it has come to this point. But how could he not, she’s barely been around anyone all week, barely speaking when she is, and even though he’s admittedly out every day doing who-knows-what, surely when he laughs and jokes with the others, he must know what they think of her. He must be thinking it himself.

**-people who hate me**. She forces herself to finish the sentence, swallowing its bitter aftertaste.

And then Vax is shaking his head, **no no no, Kiki, no** , he says and he steps closer. Only a small part of her wants to take a step back. He meets her eyes again, this time full of concern and regret and fervour and something else she still can’t name. And then his voice, his gentle, soothing, beautiful voice is calmly reassuring her, telling her that they still love her, she’s family, that they need her. **If anything** , he confesses, his voice taking a sombre turn, **it’s disappointment in ourselves**. For once, she can read him like a book. This is his own confession.

Her breath is heavy in her lungs because she hasn’t realised she is holding it. It rushes out forcefully as she and Vax reach for each other in the same moment. He is holding her fiercely, arms like a vice as he whispers in her ear all the words she’d never thought to hope for. Her arms twine around his neck, she gently strokes his hair and now it is her turn to comfort him.

After a long moment and they’ve both run out of words that matter, his arms slowly loosen and she pulls away just enough to look at him. **I’m sorry** , she tells him, and he half-smiles, shaking his head. **No really** , she tries again, **I probably worried you all, being out so long and-**

His hand, which had settled on her waist, moves to catch her hand instead. She breaks off at the sudden change, looking almost confused as his thumb slowly traces circles on her wrist. Again, giving her time to push him away, he leans in and presses his lips lightly to hers. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t imagined this eventuality once or twice, but it is far beyond what her stray thoughts could conjure up. He pulls back and looks at her, more uncertain than she’s ever seen him in her life. She briefly contemplates letting him simmer for a while, but even her self-control isn’t that good. She kisses him back, surprising even herself with her ardor. She forgets the stone wall behind her until she is pushed up against it, eliciting a small gasp. He stops again to look at her, eyes searching. She gives the tiniest of smiles, but it is all he needs. He presses his lips against hers once more, his body following suit.

An unknowable time later, as they walk hand in hand back to the keep, she reaches into the pocket of his cloak which is still around her shoulders. Her fingers brush velvet soft petals, and she pulls out a flower which is undeniably from her garden. She looks to Vax, who has the good sense to look guilty, before she grins and plants a kiss on his cheek.


End file.
